Containing the Waves
by IrrlandAlmondd
Summary: Riggs has a horrible nightmare about Roger dying in front of his eyes, and it takes his partner, who is very much alive, to snap Riggs out of the state he's worked himself in. Riggs's waves are overflowing, will Murtaugh be able to calm the tide and steady his partner once again? /Sad Riggs. Comforting Murtaugh. Trusty dog Sam. Nightmares are scary.


One Shot Fan fiction

Lethal Weapon

Hurt/Comfort and Friendship

 **Summary:** Riggs has a disturbing nightmare of Roger's death, and it takes his very much alive partner to snap him out of it. ALL THE FEELS.

 **Warning:** NOT a DEATH FIC! (It's just in Riggs's nightmare).

Some minor uses of "crap" and Riggs's usually smoking habit.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters or make money off of these stories.

 **Author Notes:** **Thanks to all who reads my stories and to those who leave comments. They really help fuel my writings and I appreciate them all.** Working on a  long Teen Wolf story (werepanther), a Hawaii 5-0 one-shot, Avengers one-shot, and maybe even a Walking Dead one-shot story. And probably another Lethal Weapon one shot. (:

* * *

 **Containing the Waves**

It's a beautiful day. Waves crashed onto the shoreline. White peaks crest on top of big waves. Water just broke and dispersed, covering the sand, destroying any traces of life that had appeared over night and over many years. The sun was shining, reflecting off the light-blue coastal waters, rising higher in the sky as the day begins.

Riggs sat on the shoreline next to his trusty dog, Sam, just observing the beautiful manifestation happening before them. He's been sitting there all night, so long that he got to witness the bright, orange rays of the sun slowly crawl behind the immense crystal waters of the sea and settle up into the sky overhead.

He'd awoken a couple hours after falling asleep, caught in the throws of a nightmare once again. Gosh, he hated nightmares, all they do is make you relieve horrific events or envision new ones. This particular one had him pretty shaken up.

Riggs had barely chocked down his scream in time. He'd jolted awake, throat raw, trembling so hard he'd thought he was going to fall off his bed, and his eyes burning with how many tears they were producing.

It'd been his worst dream yet. Worse than the war. Worse than the night Vicky died. Worse than the night Rika had been murdered. This one was _too_ close to home, piercing his heart and leaving him downright _terrified_ and so desperate for reassurance.

Murtaugh had died.

His partner had been executed in front of his eyes. Stabbed in the heart and left to bleed out, while Riggs could do nothing but _watch_. Murtaugh had died right in front of him and he could do _nothing_ about it.

Riggs had almost called his partner as soon as he'd woken, but when his head finally cleared, he decided against it. Roger had a family and an old heart, he shouldn't be put through the strainer just because Riggs'd had a nightmare. Though it had been a ghastly one. Riggs just couldn't bring himself to do so.

So that's why he's been sitting out here on the shoreline for hours, waiting for some source of comfort to come around. Maybe in the form of nature or man's best friend, or maybe he was waiting for his partner to come check on him, at least then he could assure that the man was alive and alright.

He'd stopped crying a while ago, but the tear tracks were still visible down his handsome face. He was just so tired of losing people he loved. First his wife Vicky, then Rika. He couldn't lose _Roge_ r too. He was the only one who cared enough about him to stick by his side through his insane antics and suicidal tendencies. He _never_ gave up on him. Roger _always_ made sure he was okay; feeding him is wife's meals when he was getting too thin and checking him over after his impromptu fights with criminals.

In a way, Roger was almost like a father to him, watching over him and caring for his wellbeing. But he was also his best friend, his _partner_ ; they would do anything for each other. He couldn't live if Roger died, to heck with the promise he made to his partner, if Roger died, Riggs would be next in line.

That's why this dream, this _nightmare_ , hit so close to heart. Leaving him shaken, confused, and seeking reassurance of his partner's longevity.

 _Sam_ even seemed worried for his owner, never straying far from Riggs's side and brushing up against him every so often, trying to remind his owner that he wasn't alone.

Riggs just needed some fresh air from the stuffed up trailer he lives in. It reminds him too much of everything he's lost, depressing him even more. But seeing all the life around him, when sitting next to this great big ocean that's constantly moving, was reassuring. And that's something he desperately needs right now.

He secretly hoped that if he waited out here long enough, someone, _anyone,_ would come looking for him, reassuring him even more that he wasn't alone in his mind's struggles. So that's what he's been doing, sitting out here on the shore, pondering his thoughts, dissecting the depths of his mind, and also finding himself once again contemplating _life._

His thoughts were interrupted by a hesitant voice calling out his name, "Riggs?"

Roger. Roger had come looking for him. He cared. He was alive and breathing. And he had come to _him. He was alive._

Riggs sagged in relief at his friend's voice, realistically he knew it was silly to think that Roger wasn't alive after the dream, but Riggs really didn't care. Right now it felt _so great_ to hear his friend's voice. "Roger, you're alive…" he murmured, looking up at his partner.

The dam holding his tears back broke, releasing the flood of tears he's been holding back for hours after he'd first had the horrifying nightmare.

He felt strong arms fold around him, pulling him into Roger's chest. His head found purchase in the crevasse between his partner's shoulder and neck. Feeling the crinkling of the stupid dress shirt underneath him made him cry even harder.

Riggs sobbed into Roger's shirt, leaving a wet stain on the shoulder. Roger just hugged him tighter and started to slightly rock his younger friend, hoping to sooth whatever was troubling him so much to trigger this kind of reaction.

Murtaugh had _never_ seen his younger partner breakdown like this. Yes, they'd opened up to each other after Riggs had gotten transferred, causing Roger to find out about his partner's suicidal tendencies. Yes, they'd opened up after Rika's death and the discovery of Vicky's car crash that turned out to be a murder, but _nothing_ compared to _this._

Riggs just seemed to let everything out and finally breakdown the remaining walls with Roger more than happy to take some of his pain and offer comfort to the younger detective.

So Murtaugh just held onto his broken friend, being the strong shoulder, the _rock_ supporting him, as he is meant to be especially as Riggs's partner, and as his _friend_. He was to be the shoreline to Riggs's sea. Never straying, never abandoning him, but always constant to sooth the harsh waves of hardships and events that come along to tear his friend apart. Roger will be the guiding presence in Riggs' life, even if it gets him killed in the process. He will _not_ abandon his friend _ever,_ not when Riggs's already lost _so_ much in his short lifetime.

It's his _job_ to watch over the kid, and he was _not_ about to start deserting him _now_. So he just held on tighter, gripping his partner back with equal strength and contained the rest of the crashing waves from spilling over onto land.

Riggs cried himself out until he couldn't cry anymore, and all was left was the once again wet tear tracks streaking his face, a runny nose, a sore throat from crying so hard, and utter _exhaustion_ filling his veins and flooding through his bones into the rest of his body, leaving him somnolent. He lay slack against his friend's tear soaked chest and just _relished_ in his presence, the sturdy presence of his older partner.

Roger just rubbed his friend's back, causing any remaining anxieties and fears to disappear. Riggs just soaked up all the comfort and safety offered and _basked_ in it. A tidal wave of peace washed over him, leaving him slowly drifting off to sleep, numb.

But he wasn't too far gone to not feel the strong arms snake around his back and underneath his legs, lifting his thin and limber body up off the ground to rest on Roger's chest. The older man carried him all the way to his car before sliding him into the back seat—all of which probably wasn't too good on the old geezer's back.

Roger Murtaugh drove both Riggs and himself to his house. He didn't want the younger sergeant to be alone in this state. He's not worried about him doing something rash, but he just thought that the kid needed someone to be there for him right now.

So he took Riggs to his home and carried Martin inside, laying him down in the guest bedroom. Deciding it was best to stay close by in case Riggs needed anything, Roger dragged a chair next to the bed, grabbed a book that'd been discarded on the nightstand, and sat down ready to watch over his friend. Roger was ready to be there when Riggs wakes up to reassure the younger man and himself that he was safe.

And with that in mind he patiently waited for his partner to wake up.

* * *

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Riggs awoke. Though, instead of being woken up by the regular nightmares, _this_ time he'd slept dreamlessly for whoever knows how long.

But he didn't know where he was. He didn't recognize the sheets or the pillows to be his own, and he could feel the cool breeze of a fan, or air conditioning, neither of which he had in his trailer.

The sounds of pages snagging and being turned reaching his ears—someone was reading and watching him, he could feel eyes resting on him. All of which caused him to tense up as tight as a wire ready to strike at a moment's notice, but he relaxed when he heard a familiar voice call out.

"You know, it's rude ignore the person who carried you're heavy butt up here," Roger shut his book and laid it down on the nightstand, where it belonged, and sat up on the edge of his chair. "Riggs?"

Riggs opened one eye and stared back at his older partner, "Rogs," he echoed, mouth peaking up at the corner. "What time is it?"

"Umm, about two o'clock in the afternoon. You slept almost the entire day away," Murtaugh resounded checking with his watch. "Gosh kid, what happened back there?" he asked sincerely, studying his partner's reaction closely.

Riggs knew that question was coming, but it didn't make it any easier to answer. He slammed his eyes closed and clenched his fists, remembering that awful dream he'd had earlier that lead him to his crying fest on Roger's new, ugly dress shirt.

Gosh he was a basket case, Dr. Woods would be calling him up later if she caught wind of what had transpired. But what was he to tell his partner? That he'd finally broken down over a simple _dream_? That he'd witnessed a lifelike projection of Roger's death right before his eyes? That he couldn't live if Roger was killed? _What can I—?_

"Riggs? Martin?" Murtaugh softly called out drawing him out of his troubled thoughts and back to the question at hand.

"Hmm," he hummed, casting a glance towards his partner before rubbing his hand down his face, trying to clear his head some.

Murtaugh leaned forward, "When I didn't hear from you this morning, I took Trish's new car and dropped by your trailer. I thought you'd be there, since you didn't meet up with me to go fishing and we were off work, there was really no other place you'd be. But man, what happened? I've never seen you like that before…"

Riggs slowly inched backwards on the bed till his back rested against the wooden headboard, and took a deep breath, ready to steel himself for the long chat to come. He really wished he had a cigarette, but he was still in the clothes that he'd thrown on in his rush to escape from his confining trailer. A loose blue shirt and a random pair of jeans were all he had on, and sadly no _cigarettes_. He'd only had the single one he'd grabbed on his way out the door. But what he wouldn't give for a smoke right now.

"You died," he stated bluntly, staring at the bed sheets so intently they could catch fire any minute.

Roger leaned back in the chair, contemplating his partner's answer. It all made sense now, why Riggs was so out of it, why he seemed so broken and torn up. He must've had a pretty _vivid_ dream to make him react as violently as he did, since he hasn't seen the man shed a tear over anything that wasn't a _big_ deal.

"Oh," he muttered, the word seemed to bounce off the walls and scream at his ears in the quiet house.

"Yeah," Riggs mumbled, picking at the loose strings on the clothed sheets. "I've _never_ had a nightmare like that. I mean I've always had nightmares about the war and Vicky's death, and also after what happened with Rika, but I've never seen _you_ die in any of them." Riggs explained as he bent his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, seeking some sort of comfort as he recounted the traumatic dream.

"You were executed in front of me, stabbed, and left to bleed out as I watched unable to do anything, "Riggs told as his face took this horrifying expression and he started to faintly tremble as tears started to fill his eyes.

"You _died_ , and it was the worst feeling I've _ever_ experienced. I couldn't live if you died. You're the only one who gives a crap about me and I'd have nothing to live for if you were gone," he continued on, eyes finally meeting Rogers.

Roger's eyes held nothing but understanding and compassion for his younger friend. He knows what it feels like to be terrified of losing those you love, those you hold dear, and those you live your life for. He remembers countless times when he'd wake up shedding his own tears and having to seek out Trish and his kids in the dead of night just to hold them close and reassure himself that they were alive and okay. So yes, he knows exactly what Riggs is experiencing, what he's going through.

"Don't—don't say that. You have plenty of people who need you, what would the guys at the station do without you? Who would bring in all the bad guys? I won't be around forever, you know. Man's gotta retire sometime." Roger said trying to lighten the mood a little.

Riggs huffed and wiped his eyes before any tears could fall, "They have plenty of good cops to take up my spot. Besides, who would keep me in line if you were gone? Who'd keep me from shooting the bad guys first before asking questions?" Riggs asked, head falling against the headboard as he stared up at the ceiling. "You're not going to retire anyway."

"What do you mean I'm not going to retire? I'll retire one of these years, but one thing's for sure; I'm not going to go die on you. If any of us is going to die first it'd probably be you with all your crazy antics and stunts," Roger replied, giving a slight fond smile at the end.

Riggs let out a sharp bark of laughter at the end, "Yeah maybe."

"But man, you gotta know that I'm not leaving you unless the Good Lord makes me, and even then I won't go without a fight," Roger reassured before standing up. He reached out resting a hand on Riggs's shoulder and giving it an assuring squeeze.

"Now come on, you gotta be hungry. After all you probably skipped breakfast and you slept through lunch. Might as well grab a quick snack before Trish fixes dinner later tonight," Roger moved towards the doorway, waving at Riggs to get up off his lazy butt and follow him.

"Are you sure—"

"You're staying for dinner, no arguments," Roger interjected, cutting off his partner's same old question of _Are you sure I'm not imposing by staying for dinner?_

Riggs just smiled and threw back the sheets, getting out of bed and following his partner down to the kitchen area.

Suddenly a thought flashed through Riggs's mind wiping the smile from his face as fast as it came. "Did you get Sam? I didn't feed him this morning and—"

"Whoa calm down tiger. Don't worry; Sam hoped in the car with me, he wasn't too eager to leave you so quick anyway. I fed him a little while ago and he's roaming around in the backyard now. You can let him in if you want," Roger explained, pouring a glass of water before laying out the ingredients to make them both a sandwich.

Riggs went and opened the door, whistling for Sam to come in the house, which he did eagerly. "Good boy," Riggs said as he petted Sam's head.

"Say Rog, you got any cigarettes stashed in here?" Martin asked as he hopped up on the counter, watching his partner fix up a couple sandwiches.

"I thought you were trying to quit?" Murtaugh claimed, placing the two sandwiches on plates and grabbed a bag of chips.

"Yeah well, consider this a minor set back. I'll continue it Monday," Riggs argued, snagging a few chips from the bag to munch on.

"Uhh huhh. I've heard that wind blow before," Roger muttered, buried in a cabinet before resurfacing with a small package of cigarettes.

"Here, don't use them all at once. I'm not going to buy more because you're supposed to be quitting," he claimed tossing the package to his younger partner.

"Yes!" Riggs punched the air, smile lighting up his face, "I knew you secretly loved me Rog," he dug out one and lit it, silently thanking the Lord that he grabbed his lighter before exiting his cabin earlier.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just grab your sandwich," Roger ordered, grabbing his own plate and the chip bag before making his way to the couch.

Riggs quickly hopped off the counter, snagged his plate and a drink, and followed his partner into the living room, before plopping down on the couch next to Roger.

"Anything good on?" Riggs asked, plopping his feet up on the coffee table and bit into his sandwich.

"Nahh not really," Roger commented, flipping through TV channels.

"Hey, the _Three Stooges_! Go back!" Riggs exclaimed, pointing vicariously at the TV, some chips falling from the couch, which Sam immediately lapped up.

"Okay, okay, calm down. Jeez, one would think you never get to see the show," Roger muttered, turning it on the show and started into his own lunch.

"This is _real_ TV Rogs," Riggs remarked, taking a drink. Riggs started cracking up at the show, completely enthralled with the images thrown on screen.

"Yeah, real TV my butt," Roger mumbled, before relaxing against the couch next to his partner.

And that's how it's meant to be—his partner laughing and carrying on as he usually does, the broken shell of a man he'd found earlier tucked away inside once again. It was good that Riggs's had finally let all of that out, it had been building for far too long, but it was just unnerving to see the younger man in that state. Roger is so glad that Riggs's had returned to somewhat normalcy.

He will be ready the next time Riggs breaks and needs him, ready to pick up the pieces and put the man back together. He's ready to keep the fears at bay when they get too much to the younger man, when the waves get rough Roger will be there like the shoreline, ready to catch all that floods over.

They are partners, and that's what they are supposed to do. Level out one another, and be there when the other needs help or a steadying presence in the crazy ocean of crap they have to endure on the job. And that I assure you is one large ocean to deal with.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Please drop a comment on the way out. (:**


End file.
